The Rose-Tree

There was once upon a time a good man who had two children: a girl by
a first wife, and a boy by the second. The girl was as white as milk,
and her lips were like cherries. Her hair was like golden silk, and it
hung to the ground. Her brother loved her dearly, but her wicked
stepmother hated her. “Child,” said the stepmother one day, “go to the
grocer’s shop and buy me a pound of candles.” She gave her the money;
and the little girl went, bought the candles, and started on her
return. There was a stile to cross. She put down the candles whilst
she got over the stile. Up came a dog and ran off with the candles.

She went back to the grocer’s, and she got a second bunch. She came to
the stile, set down the candles, and proceeded to climb over. Up came
the dog and ran off with the candles.

She went again to the grocer’s, and she got a third bunch; and just
the same happened. Then she came to her stepmother crying, for she had
spent all the money and had lost three bunches of candles.

The stepmother was angry, but she pretended not to mind the loss. She
said to the child: “Come, lay your head on my lap that I may comb your
hair.” So the little one laid her head in the woman’s lap, who
proceeded to comb the yellow silken hair. And when she combed the hair
fell over her knees, and rolled right down to the ground.

Then the stepmother hated her more for the beauty of her hair; so she
said to her, “I cannot part your hair on my knee, fetch a billet of
wood.” So she fetched it. Then said the stepmother, “I cannot part
your hair with a comb, fetch me an axe.” So she fetched it.

“Now,” said the wicked woman, “lay your head down on the billet whilst
I part your hair.”

Well! she laid down her little golden head without fear; and whist!
down came the axe, and it was off. So the mother wiped the axe and
laughed.

Then she took the heart and liver of the little girl, and she stewed
them and brought them into the house for supper. The husband tasted
them and shook his head. He said they tasted very strangely. She gave
some to the little boy, but he would not eat. She tried to force him,
but he refused, and ran out into the garden, and took up his little
sister, and put her in a box, and buried the box under a rose-tree;
and every day he went to the tree and wept, till his tears ran down on
the box.

One day the rose-tree flowered. It was spring, and there among the
flowers was a white bird; and it sang, and sang, and sang like an
angel out of heaven. Away it flew, and it went to a cobbler’s shop,
and perched itself on a tree hard by; and thus it sang,

“Sing again that beautiful song,” asked the shoemaker. “If you will
first give me those little red shoes you are making.” The cobbler gave
the shoes, and the bird sang the song; then flew to a tree in front of
a watchmaker’s, and sang:

“Oh, the beautiful song! sing it again, sweet bird,” asked the
watchmaker. “If you will give me first that gold watch and chain in
your hand.” The jeweller gave the watch and chain. The bird took it in
one foot, the shoes in the other, and, after having repeated the song,
flew away to where three millers were picking a millstone. The bird
perched on a tree and sang:

Then all three cried out with one voice: “Oh, what a beautiful song!
Sing it, sweet bird, again.” “If you will put the millstone round my
neck,” said the bird. The men did what the bird wanted and away to the
tree it flew with the millstone round its neck, the red shoes in one
foot, and the gold watch and chain in the other. It sang the song and
then flew home. It rattled the millstone against the eaves of the
house, and the stepmother said: “It thunders.” Then the little boy ran
out to see the thunder, and down dropped the red shoes at his feet. It
rattled the millstone against the eaves of the house once more, and
the stepmother said again: “It thunders.” Then the father ran out and
down fell the chain about his neck.

In ran father and son, laughing and saying, “See, what fine things the
thunder has brought us!” Then the bird rattled the millstone against
the eaves of the house a third time; and the stepmother said: “It
thunders again, perhaps the thunder has brought something for me,” and
she ran out; but the moment she stepped outside the door, down fell
the millstone on her head; and so she died.